


Retain That Dear Perfection

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Solo Lives, F/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Rey travels the galaxy, growing her legend as she goes, with her nameless companion by her side.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Retain That Dear Perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).



There must always be balance. Rey took on a new name. The man who was Ben Solo then Kylo Ren now has no name at all.

"You're not as mysterious as you think," she tells him when they are out of earshot. This village ekes out its existence at the distant outskirts of a once-great city. The Empire blasted the city, and the First Order returned later, and now there are only the survivors in these far-flung homes keeping their heads down, hoping not to be noticed.

He can sympathize.

"I'm not trying to be mysterious," he says in what isn't entirely a lie.

"Just call yourself something. Anything." In her mind, he sees the word 'Ben,' her name for the man she thinks he ought to be. As always, he can't hear that name without hearing the echo of his father shouting for him, a lifetime of love and regret in one syllable. He doesn't miss a step as he walks. Inside he's recoiling.

"You don't have to choose today," she says aloud in what isn't an apology but is filled with regrets of her own.

"I'll think of something."

The villagers were grateful to the Jedi Rey Skywalker, whose legend is growing throughout the galaxy. They offered thanks as well to her nameless friend, who has reasons not to want to be known ever again. It was the same on the last planet, and the one before that. The Jedi of old were known as teachers, healers, warriors, and more. Rey wants to help. The galaxy carries deep scars from three wars, and she is taking the little she's learned out among the people to heal them, world by world. Sometimes that means ridding their town of a despot eager to seize power in this unsteady time, as it was for this village. Sometimes that means bringing medicine, or spending days among them listening to their stories. She has a mission she is still defining to herself.

He has nothing. He lost his family by his own terrible mistakes, and almost lost his life. Rey's life had been at the very edge, the last spark of her fading inside his soul, and he had rashly copied the same spell she had performed on him. It should have killed them both, but here he is, and far more importantly, here she is. He'll gladly lose his name, a meager payment for such great gain. 

The ship waits for them where they left it. He should own the _Millennium Falcon_ , not this cantankerous transport they paid too much for back on Tatooine. The _Falcon_ belongs to Chewbacca now, and for the time being, Uncle Lando. They're off repaying debts of their own, whatever deals Lando had to make to bring help in the Resistance's hour of need.

Need they may never have had without the man he used to be. If he had never joined the First Order. If he had come home when his father had asked him. If he had taken Rey's hand instead of wrapping himself in hurt pride when she'd refused his.

"I'm flying," Rey says, pushing past him into the cockpit. He flings himself into the co-pilot's chair, bad memories swarming too thick for him to see their flight path anyway.

"Did you have a destination in mind?" He's already thumbing his way through the nav charts, eyes catching on worlds he visited as a boy, worlds he conquered as a man, worlds where he dares not show his face even without a name.

She closes her eyes, reaches out to the maps and points, opening to see where her finger is leading them this time. He starts calculating the jump while she takes them up and out of the atmosphere.

The ship eases into the stars, and with a flip of the switches, they're flung into hyperspace. Rey sits back in her chair. "Chester."

"No."

"Ala-dann."

"No."

"Parlis."

"Rey."

"You can't call yourself Rey. That's my name. It would get confusing." Her lips are pressed together to keep herself from cracking a smile at her own bad joke.

"That's easy to fix. We'll go to Naboo and look up your birth records to find out your real name. I'll start calling you Laré or Sharé."

She makes a face at him. He can't keep a straight face as easily as she can and breaks first, enjoying the softening in her ire as he smiles. He has no idea why she cares for him as much as she does. The Force has no reason to see him happy. His continued existence and this woman's love for him are two gifts he has done all he could not to deserve, and the price is spending the rest of his life at her side mending the wrongs he helped cause. He had no hope at forgiveness. What he has been given instead is unearned grace.

Their next destination is over a day's travel from here. He doesn't know what they'll face when they arrive. This journey's looping transit is mapped by their trust in the Force to lead them where they're needed. They spend the time between tasks poring over the books Rey took, and the mysterious pieces of text they uncover at each stop which add to their sparse library.

Rey doesn't have to ask him to open the pouch where he placed their latest find. The rock is heavier in his palm than he thinks it ought to be, weighted with secrets. The sides have tiny carvings almost too small for the eye to distinguish. A gift, the village leader said, in thanks for their help.

"Any idea what it is?" she asks him now. "It's the same shape as the Wayfinder. Or, what was it called, a holocron?"

He peers at the stone. "It's not a holocron. Those are made. You're right that this is like one, though," he adds, watching her mild disappointment turn to curiosity again. "Like someone who saw a holocron or Wayfinder once tried to carve one out of a special stone. Here, feel." He takes her hand, pressing her fingers over the stone. They clasp it between their joined hands, sensing the light pulse of the Force.

Rey opens her eyes. "Or like what a holocron was before people discovered how to make one."

It's never occurred to him to wonder if the information repositories favored by the Jedi and the Sith were inspired by something older, and he's willing to wager the other Jedi hadn't thought about it, or had forgotten the origin long ago. Trust Rey to bring a different perspective.

"It's worth looking into," he agrees, finishing her thought. He hands the stone to her. Rey takes it to the small cabin where they store their artifacts, their books and scrolls, and now one rock that might be an early kind of holocron.

The collection reminded him of the three-dimensional puzzles his mother had given him as educational toys when he was small. Given time and patience, tiny pieces could be constructed together into a grand masterpiece recreation of a starship, or a famous building, or, after Mother had grown tired of his youthful impatience and tantrums smashing half-completed puzzles to bits, characters from his favorite holoprograms. The eclectic array of items growing aboard their ship may eventually form into the blueprint of a new Jedi Order, or even some new Order unseen before now.

Not today. Rey closes the cabin door, and she turns to him with a tired but interested smile.

Their cabin isn't any larger than the other, only enough space for a few personal items, and a bunk with drawers beneath for storage. It's smaller than her repurposed home back on Jakku. It's smaller than his mother's closet back in the apartment he most remembers as his childhood home. It's perfect.

They fall into each other as they always do. This started when all they had was the mental bond, when he woke nights to see her next to him. They fought and snarled and shoved and scratched, and he still carries scars from her nails scraping his chest as she rode him hard to her own peak. She strokes the raised flesh now, and she is thinking the great scar on his face healed when she brought him back from the brink, but these remain.

"They're part of you left to mark me," he says, but he says a lot of nonsense when they're in bed, and she ignores him, pushing his face to where she wants him. He does as she commands with her hands and her whispers and the shape of what she wants inside her mind, until she is shaking and ready, and his own mind burns with her need plaited with his own.

He has given everything of himself, tried to give his life, and that price is far too low for what he has with her.

After, as Rey's head rests against his, he can hear the echo of his old name in her thoughts again, but she says out loud: "Stefan."

He turns and kisses her temple. "No."

"Barouk."

"No."

"Ik-tikki-nov the First."

"Good night, Rey."

She turns and kisses his cheek. "Good night, dear."


End file.
